


Worth something

by lemonadesoda



Series: And I don't think you hate this as much as you wish you did [5]
Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Dadtcher, Fluff, Gen, Oh the Humanity AU (A Hat in Time), Slice of Life, oth!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:42:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28127061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonadesoda/pseuds/lemonadesoda
Summary: Things have changed since the cruise. Snatcher struggles to figure out what it means.
Relationships: Bow Kid & Snatcher (A Hat in Time), Hat Kid & Snatcher (A Hat in Time), Moonjumper & Snatcher (A Hat in Time)
Series: And I don't think you hate this as much as you wish you did [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999939
Comments: 19
Kudos: 93





	Worth something

> _ There’s something sweet and almost kind. But he was mean, and he was coarse and unrefined. And now he’s dear and so unsure. I wonder why I didn’t see it there before. _
> 
> _ -Beauty and the Beast, Something There _

The ship is quiet now that Bow Kid is visiting with Moonjumper, and Hat Kid is tinkering in the ship’s workshop. Snatcher has learned to avoid her when she’s working, since inevitably they start yelling at each other over the broken Time Piece. Somehow, they both have a way of setting each other off like that, and when his entire fate depends on her goodwill, his best bet is to keep a wide berth.

It needles him, though, having to tap into his old skills at reading moods, avoiding conflict. It’s too familiar, makes him shiver inside. He’s  _ vulnerable _ now, once again. Don’t take the wrong step, don’t say the wrong thing--oh he’s so good at that these days--or be left adrift and unable to help himself. 

This was easier once--having tact--but after dying, who did he owe politeness to? Where did it ever get him? Go to school to learn how to spin clever words, say the right thing, and what? It never mattered to  _ her. _ Now, bitter accusations come to him too easily at a time when what he says does matter. Snatcher reminisces about the earliest arguments, when Hat Kid was probably the closest she had been to genuinely ejecting him from the ship for all his lashing out. He’s more emotionally stable now that he’s had some time to settle into this form and relearn the bells and whistles. Time as well to realize that he can and has hurt her feelings during those fights.

Snatcher sighs, staring out the window above where he normally sleeps. He slides into a lying position, dropping his head onto his pillow. Why should he even care? He tried to kill her and Bow Kid before, so what is different? Apparently the Prince was just so much of a people-pleaser that it’s embedded into his muscle memory. He scrubs his face with his palms, as if that will help him keep up the barrier that separates himself from the outdated body he’s inhabiting that keeps trying to drag him back to who he once was. It’s getting harder to distinguish between the two, and that’s the exact sort of problem that stabs him awake in the middle of the night and makes him cry his guts out in front of Moonjumper.

There’s only so much reading he can do in these empty hours when he’s left to himself. His forest and all its little haunts needed continuous tending--stoke or curb the flames, clear out the snow, watch for intruders, shepherd the Subconites and the rest of the ghosts who couldn’t remember enough to shape a solid personality. Like any unruly, living creature, it shifted and fidgeted and even threw tantrums to demand his attention, so like clockwork, Snatcher wallows in the empty space it once occupied. This new aimlessness leaves nothing but his emotions to fill in the blanks. He said a lot of things he didn’t mean on the cruise, but one thing that rings true is that he really is incapable of anything right now. He needs people now, and it’s been so long since he has needed anything. He needs them, but does anyone else still need him?

When Hat Kid hums her way back into the bedroom, she leaves him to his thoughts for a bit. Eventually, though, her footsteps approach on the ramp, and she pops into view.

“Oh, you are awake.” She says this as though she had been expecting it.

Snatcher frowns at her. “Hrm? Yeah, why?”

She shrugs. “Nothing, just checking.”

“Checking on what?”

Another shrug. “It’s weird if you’re sleeping already.”

“Well, I’m not, obviously.”

Hat Kid crosses her arms. “You sleep a lot when you’re feeling bad. Just saying.”

That makes him actually prop himself up on his elbows to face her. “What?”

“You do. You get all grouchy and lie around and mope and you sleep.”

“I don’t mope!”

“So then what is it called when you sit around all day and make this face?” Hat Kid’s whole demeanor droops, and she adds an extra slump to her shoulders for melodrama.

He gives her a flat look. “I do not look like that.”

Out of nowhere, she materializes her camera. “Wanna bet?”

Snatcher shoots into a sitting position and shoves the lens away. “No!” She cackles, holding the camera out of arm’s reach, but cuts herself off when he pulls away, massaging the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. “Kid, honestly. I’m just thinking, am I not allowed to think?”

Hat Kid plops down next to him, vanishing the camera. “Well, what are you thinking about? ‘Cause you are being mopey.”

He wrinkles his nose. “Nothing I want to talk to you about.”

She pulls away at his tone, resentful, and God it makes his temples pound, trying to wrangle his feelings while not alienating her too much, because damn it, it is so easy to hurt her feelings even though she pretends otherwise, and damn it some more, he  _ doesn’t like it now _ for some reason. In the past, mortals and their little emotions were like ants to him, easy and inconsequential to crush. They all died in the blink of an eye anyway, so what did it really matter to a centuries-old spirit that they died a little sooner than they planned?

It’s all in his face now. The kid gets mad at him, and he has to be stuck in a box with her indefinitely, dealing with the consequences of it. The things he says actually matter. This is why he hates being alive again because it’s too close to Vanessa how he keeps finding himself backpedaling and deflecting and defending-

Except. 

Except, he sees Hat Kid withdrawing, and, no…no, this is not Vanessa. She is just a child, reacting, because what he says to her matters, and isn’t that a crazy thought?

“Look, kid,” he tries, controlling his voice this time. “It’s just a lot to say. A lot to hear...” Heavy, for a child. Heavy for him too.

His softer manner encourages her to unfold again. She shuffles closer, tucking her knees to her chest. “But you do feel bad?”

Snatcher bites his lip, deciding whether it’s worth it to admit. Somehow, denying it seems unconvincing with how he’s already been acting. “Yeah. Suppose so.”

“Okay.” She crawls toward him and shimmies her way into his lap.

“Wha? Kid! What are you-oof, watch it!” He rubs his leg in the pressure point she managed to jam with her knee in the process. “Okay, what is this?”

“Shh, we’re just hanging out. You said you don’t wanna talk.”

Well, he’s kind of stuck here now. He could shove her off, but he suspects that would earn him more injured feelings. Does he even want to, though? The alternative is going back to sitting alone with his thoughts, and lately Snatcher has been doing a lot of pondering about being alone or deciding not to be.

Things have changed ever since the cruise. There’s something about the way he reacts to the kids and Moonjumper, like a part of him he neglected has opened up. Maybe he’s still worn down from trying to carry all these emotions, and it’s chipped away his resistance. It’s perhaps because of this that he makes himself an allowance. He wraps his arms around Hat Kid and rests his chin on the top of her head. In response, she relaxes in his embrace, leaning back against him, and reaches out to hold his hands. Snatcher’s breath catches, and he has a hard time getting it loose again.

“Ooh! Did you see the shooting star?” Hat Kid whispers, thankfully distracting him from his crisis.

“Huh? No.”

“Aw, yeah they’re kinda hard to see if you’re not used to looking at them from space. They’re easier to see on the horizon because the contrast is better.” She traces the outline of the planet with her finger.

Snatcher hums his acknowledgment and does keep his eyes on the horizon for a while after that, though he doesn’t manage to spot one.

“Hey, you smell like burnt metal. Did you even wash up before coming here?”

“Naw.”

“Are you gonna?”

“Naw.”

He huffs in dismay, the sharp exhalation making a tuft of her hair flutter. “That’s gross.”

She snickers. “Well you can do the laundry again if it bugs you so bad.”

“Yeah, how come I always end up being the one doing that, huh? Aren’t they your chores? What did you do when I didn’t live here?”

“I dunno. We did it whenever.”

“You mean the other kid did it, don’t you?”

“I help! I wouldn’t make her do it by herself.”

“Oh, so you’re both bad at cleaning.” Snatcher shakes his head. He would have expected more from Bow Kid since she strikes him as less amenable to mess, but then again, they’re both kids living unsupervised, and he never liked chores much as a child either.

“We get dirty all the time from adventures. We would have to clean up over and over and over. What a pain.”

He can’t help but laugh. “That’s kind of the whole point of cleaning, kiddo.”

“Yeah, that’s why it stinks.”

“That’s why  _ you _ stink.”

She reaches up and pokes at his face but misses completely. “Well now you stink too because you’re hugging me.”

“Yeah, I do. Thanks so much for that.” He’s more self-conscious of the fact that he  _ is _ hugging her, now that she’s pointed it out so blatantly. Somehow it was easier when nobody acknowledged it.

“You’re welcome!”

Moments like these have become more commonplace, the kids extending their casual affections. And he’s having a harder time making excuses to decline them. It’s been an excruciating two months, which isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, but he has so many hours to while away, and he’s starting to understand what Moonjumper was trying to say about being alone. It’s...nice, just sitting here with her, not really talking about anything real. It’s nice to have a bit of comfort in company. It solves none of his problems, but like the time Hat came back injured from the Metro, it somehow comes naturally to hold her close. Once again, he struggles to find the line where the different versions of himself begin and end, to know what part of him is the one that makes this feel right.

* * *

Snatcher wanders through the dusty rows of shelves in an antique bookshop that Bow had discovered. For once, it hadn’t taken much prodding for her to convince him to come along on the outing. He’s lost the kids amongst the forest of books. The reams of paper eat up the sounds so that everything reduces to feathery whispers, so even Hat Kid’s chatter isn’t audible to him.

The smell and the filtered lighting takes him back to every library he’s ever wandered all at once. It’s a stark contrast against the ionized air of the spaceship that he’s slowly been getting accustomed to. Snatcher breathes in deep. He doesn’t want to forget what this air feels like. If he must endure a sensory existence again, at least he can pick sensations he enjoys.

He spends ages trying to decide, tucking books into the crook of his arm as he steps over customers who have parked themselves in the aisles to read. One cover at the top of a precarious stack catches his eye, its title reaching back into his old memories and snagging him by the collar-- _ Timberel _ written in silver leaf. The binding is old, and it’s obviously been through multiple series of repairs. The pages crinkle as he flips through them. How long has it been?

“Did you find something?” Bow Kid appears from behind, and Snatcher has to conceal his jolt.

“Sheesh, kid, give me a warning next time,” he hisses. She ducks her head apologetically, and then tilts it toward the book he’s holding. “Ah, um, it’s actually a book I knew. From before.”

“Like when you were...uh…”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“I didn’t know they still had any around.” He turns it over and examines the workmanship more carefully. Someone must have handbound it after the original deteriorated, and even that it is showing its age.

“What’s it about?”

“Hm? Oh, just-it’s about the lives of seven patients and the doctor who treated them in the village of Timberel right after a war.”

“Ooh. Are you gonna get it? It sounds interesting.”

He quirks an eyebrow. Does it really? For a kid? Then again, he’s seen her collection. He’s not sure she fully gets everything she reads, but she seems to like the whole process regardless. “Yeah, I’ll get this one.”

“Great! I’m finished picking out mine, so we can go check out if you’re done too.”

They pay together because Snatcher still hasn’t sorted out his money situation, and he would prefer it be as discreet as possible that a child is spotting him. He didn’t need money for centuries! Suddenly it’s such a hassle!

When they exit the shop, the street is far more packed with people than when they arrived, everyone gathering in the market for lunch and to enjoy the warmth of the day. Hat Kid pushes off from where she had been leaning against the wall, playing on her tablet.

“Finally,” she groans. “You both take  _ so long _ to pick stuff.” She herself has only a small bag.

“There’s so many choices!” Bow protests. “I have to see all the options.”

Hat Kid just laughs. “I know, I know.”

“So, are we going back to the ship?” Snatcher asks, eyeing the encroaching crowd.

“Wait, I want to find something to eat,” Hat Kid says, already pushing her way into the masses. “These places always have great food.”

“Hattie, wait up!” Bow darts out after her, leaving Snatcher to try and keep up, immediately bumping into someone walking past. He loses the two almost immediately, their smallness giving them far more agility to weave between everyone’s legs, and he finds himself trapped by the current of pedestrians. The many voices blend together, and there is indeed food cooking somewhere because those scents waft in and co-mingle with the smell of dust kicked up by trampling feet. Several more passersby bump into him as they walk past, some apologetic and some irritable at him for disrupting the flow. And good grief, it’s so much brighter out here than the bookshop.

The crush of people around him whips him back to the days of bustling town squares in Subcon where villagers, shopkeepers, travelers jostled together, where the world was sunlight-dappled and a cacophony of color, laughter, life. It’s so alive here, so alive it’s consuming him like fire. God,  _ he _ is alive, isn’t he? The thought threatens to swallow him. He used to love this, loved to talk and to meet, loved that brilliant Life, he was good at this, why is it now drowning him-No. The  _ Prince _ loved this, and all that’s left of that stupid bastard is this shambling mess of a vessel puppeteered by his leftover specter, and it  _ can’t handle this, _ the waves of sights and sounds battering the shoreline of his senses. Get it together, damn it.

A small hand reaches through the crowd and takes his hand, and Snatcher latches onto the solid sensation as it tows him stumbling through the sea of people until finally, he can breathe.

Bow Kid looks up at him with wide brown eyes. They're standing in a sheltered trail a ways away from the main boulevard. “Are you okay?”

He brushes off the sleeves of his sweater. “Yeah, kid. Bunch of annoying tourists in there, that’s all.”

“You’re breathing hard.”

Snatcher takes a moment to stabilize himself, collect. “You dragged me like a pet rock. That’s not a walk in the park.”

She lets his hand go. “Sorry, I didn't want to lose you.”

She means literally. Of course she does, but the sentence still hits like a train, and he’s already dizzy. Stop hearing messages that aren’t there, he thinks. He’s still shaking, unsure of why he got so overwhelmed back there.

Hat Kid saunters after them, holding up a familiar package. Snatcher shoots his gaze to his empty hands.

“Forgot your books,” Hat Kid says as she catches up to them. “Can’t have that.”

He swipes the bag from her, inspecting its contents. How did he get so swept up in the crowd that he didn’t realize it was missing?

Hat Kid nudges him with her elbow. “Uh, you’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it, kid.” He hopes that he doesn’t sound as breathless as he feels.

“Doesn’t sound like 'thank you' to me,” she mutters. “I just rescued your priceless treasure.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” The eye roll turns into a yelp when Hat Kid steals the package back and skips back toward the plaza.

“If it’s not that important, I can put it back where I found it,” she sings.

“Hattie, come on!” Bow says, but she’s also giggling at the display.

Snatcher, though, lunges after her. “Get back here, you extortionist!”

“Magic words, it’s not that hard!”

“Magi-argh! Fine!  _ Thank you! _ ” It’s the least grateful thanks anyone has ever said, but Hat still stops and holds out the book again, smirking at him.

When he takes it the second time, he hugs it to his chest, aware this is a deeply embarrassing gesture, but he’s not giving her any more chances to have leverage.

Bow Kid takes a couple of leading steps farther down the shaded path, and Snatcher and Hat Kid follow. The three of them walk amidst the sunbeams that lean down through the canopy, and Hat hands them a few fried snacks she found at one of the booths. A few people pass them by on the trail with a nod and wave of the hand, but otherwise, it’s quiet. Even when they break out of the tunnel of trees to the lakeside path, the sounds of the world are muted, as though they too are washed out by the mid-afternoon sun.

Snatcher holds up a hand to shade his eyes. It’s worse than staring at the glowing planet from the spaceship. He hasn’t been out in broad daylight in ages--not ideal climes for a shadowy ghost. Part of him wants to retreat to the shelter of the trees, but the blazing heat draws out another part of him too. It’s the part that, before he got too lost in his head, drank in the colorful noise of the market plaza and reached out to touch it. Before these two sides of himself have the chance to war with each other, once again, a small hand slips into his.

Now that he’s not overwhelmed by sensation, the gesture startles him enough to yank away before he catches the sight of Bow Kid flinching back in alarm.

“Oh, sorry,” she begins, but he cuts her off by extending his hand back out one joint at a time.

Is it the part of him that reached out toward the life in the marketplace that reaches again now? Is it one of those vestigial responses of his old body? Or is it the way Bow’s smile outshines the sun when she takes his hand properly, swinging it as they walk?

Hat Kid, not one to be left out, charges forward and snags his other hand around the loops of the bag, and the three of them wind their way along the shore of the lake. Something has changed, Snatcher reflects once again. He still can’t quite wrap his head around it, but it’s here. Here, where nobody can see them, and the rest of the world and history too is cut off by sunbeams and bowing trees. Here, where he is just a man with two children, walking by a lake with their bags full of old books.

* * *

Back on the spaceship, Snatcher and Bow, fresh after washing up, sink into the pillow stack with their new acquisitions. He barely remembers how this one went. It hadn’t even been his favorite in his first life, but seeing an old story still enduring had been enough to move him. Some of the plot comes back to him as he reads, and so does the nostalgia. He has to keep his mind on the words so he doesn’t lose track of himself again, though it’s easier now that he’s back in familiar territory.

That tingling sensation one gets when being watched keeps pulling him from the narrative until Snatcher finally slaps the book down onto his legs and cranes his head to Bow. She jumps, tucking her shoulders as she lifts her own book back up and resumes reading it instead of his. Snatcher snorts and shakes his head, regaining his focus, at least until he swivels around to catch her again.

“Kid. Do you mind?”

“Sorry!” Bow Kid fidgets with her thumbs. “I was curious.”

“You’re distracting,” he says.

She bobs her head, chewing on her lip and averting her gaze. The silence that follows is thick, and even though she’s no longer sneaking a peek, he can feel the radiation of her continued interest. Snatcher groans.

“Alright! Enough.” He clambers farther up the pillows to her altitude and makes himself comfortable there. He shifts the book in between them and picks up where he left off. He glances over. She’s giving him that same puzzled stare as she had when he absently fixed her headband that one time. “What?”

Bow keeps staring.

“Listen, kid, if you’re going to read it, let’s not do it over my shoulder, got it?”

And there’s that smile again. Bow Kid shuffles closer and props herself up against his shoulder. Oh. Okay. There’s that too, then.

Not long after they take up reading together, Hat Kid bustles into the room and screeches to a halt at the sight of them.

“Whatcha reading?”

“Snatcher’s historical novel from the shop,” Bow Kid says.

“Is it interesting?” Hat Kid bounces up the pillow stack, creating an earthquake, and collides with Snatcher’s other shoulder.

“I like it!” Bow tells her.

“Let me see!” Hat shoves the book down so she has a better view, and Snatcher stares, half-lidded at the ceiling as the kids chatter over him.

“Can I please get back to my book?”

“Technically, it’s Bow’s book, since she paid for it,” Hat Kid says.

“Ughh!” He smacks the book against his face and leaves it there covering him like a tent. Their laughter floats in past the pages.

“Wait, wait, okay, we’ll be quiet, I still want to read too,” Bow Kid says through her giggles as she gently tries to pry it off him again.

“No, wait, you should read it to us,” Hat Kid says, poking him in the arm.

“Oh, for crying out- _ why? _ ”

“Because! I want to know the story too, but I don’t like reading words with my eyes.”

“ _ What? _ ”

“She says it’s too hard to concentrate,” Bow Kid informs him.

“Please?” Hat Kid tugs at his sleeve.

“Oh, no, do  _ not _ give me the Big Round Eyes again, I went on a cruise for that, and all that got me was semi-permanent nausea.” The Big Round Eyes turn into pouting. “It’s not exactly an action packed story,” he adds. “It’s pretty thematically heavy.”

Hat Kid’s pleading look turns legitimately disappointed, which is even worse. Bow looks the same, though she works harder to hide it. Snatcher lets out a long sigh and lowers the book down again. He flips back to the start of it--fortunately they haven’t had much time to start reading so they haven’t gotten too far ahead. And then, he reads.

He’s treated to surround-sound gasps of excitement as he starts, droning initially, but as he dives deeper, the prose starts carrying him, and emotion starts seeping into his delivery. The two kids huddle closer to him, even though there are no pictures to see in the text.

Things really are different, aren’t they? There’s almost nothing that he can do in this state that doesn’t revolve around the kids--even reading is becoming a thing between him and Bow. He’s starting to get used to this, and that’s a terrifying thought, so he ignores it, stays focused on saying one word and then the next, until the book smacks down on his face, startling all three of them awake because they’ve all nodded off at some point in the process. Snatcher mumbles at them about brushing their teeth, and they mumble back about “in a few minutes” and promptly fall asleep again, heads pillowed against either shoulder, and once again, he’s trapped, but it doesn’t matter because he drops off not long after them.

And...he doesn’t hate this, does he?

* * *

Moonjumper sits at the kitchen table, watching Snatcher as he walks through the instructions Cooking Cat left on heating up a meal correctly.

“Wait till the oven beeps three times to ensure it’s properly pre-heated…” Snatcher mutters, squinting at the sheet of paper the chef attached to the dish of lasagna that she prepared earlier in the week. The temperature on the oven indicates that he’s got some waiting to do before he can actually stick it in, so he sits down across from Moonjumper.

“At least the kitchen is not yet ablaze,” they say cheerfully.

Snatcher glares at them. “That wasn’t my fault.” He could control fire with magic before. And normally water  _ was _ a rational solution to fire regardless. 

“No, it was just chemistry’s fault,” Moonjumper agrees, still grinning. “Fortunately for you, I have learned recently how to handle grease fires.”

Snatcher throws his hands up. “I know too! The cat told me!”

They laugh. “I’m just teasing.”

He makes a grumbling noise in response. It’s not like he’s totally incompetent. Okay, so maybe he still can’t cook, but neither can the kids, so they all rely on the ready-made meals Cooking Cat whips up on her periodic visits. But he does know how to use the kitchen devices now.

Despite their joking at his expense, Moonjumper is here because Snatcher called them. It’s become more normal for him to do it, whenever the kids are occupied or out, and he’s just not feeling up to keeping himself busy on his own. He’s already tried multiple times to bring up the cruise conversation and failed each time, so he and Moonjumper keep ending up talking about nonsense like kitchen fires.

“I have to say, you do look a lot more confident with all the gadgets,” they say, after the oven beeps, and Snatcher sticks the lasagna pan in and successfully sets a cooking timer.

“Yeah, well, I kind of need to be in order to, you know, live.”

“Hah, that’s true. Certainly you’ve had to make a lot of adjustments.”

Since the cruise, Moonjumper has not asked him to talk about his feelings, hasn’t pressed him about how he’s doing. They haven’t even asked him why he calls them just to talk about nothing. The two of them just “hang out” as Hat Kid would say. Snatcher is sure that’s a conscious effort on their part. They’re waiting, he knows--waiting for his cue.  _ When you’re feeling better. _

He appreciates the breathing room. At this rate, that Time Piece could stay broken for a long time, and he can’t keep on the way he has been without addressing some things. He just needed the time to come to terms with that.

“A couple of kids can’t be taking care of me,” Snatcher says, picking up the conversation. “They can barely take care of themselves.”

“Yes, I’ve seen their eating habits.”

“Mind you, I wasn’t the only one who set the kitchen on fire the last time,” Snatcher adds. He sighs, folding his arms on the table and resting his head on them. “I just hate being babysat.”

Moonjumper seems to detect the shift in his demeanor and sobers. “Of course.”

“I mean, I can’t  _ do _ anything about it. This form is-” He picks up one hand by the finger and lets it drop back down onto the table. “Useless.”

“You can make lasagna. That’s something,” Moonjumper offers.

Snatcher’s lip curls. “It’s still heating,” he mutters. “Plenty of room left for catastrophe. Besides, I didn’t make it.”

They fiddle with their monocle. “I’ll concede that one, but you must have handled other meals just fine before this one, haven’t you? My point is, it’s not useless even if all you can do is the bare minimum to survive.”

Snatcher’s brow furrows. “I guess…”

“Besides, if you really were a useless layabout, you wouldn’t have such compunctions about letting a pair of children be your caretakers.” They clasp their hands on the table and regard him sympathetically. “I know it’s hard for you to not be able to do the things you used to. I-” They pause, chewing for a bit on the words they’re trying to get out. “I’m sure I haven’t been very helpful in making it easier for you.”

Snatcher lifts his head at that. He hadn’t been expecting contriteness from Moonjumper. It catches him off guard so that he forgets what he was planning to say in response.

They seem to interpret his silence as a prompt to elaborate. “I think maybe I have been putting too much pressure on you to adapt to your circumstances too quickly. Or at least got too caught up in frustration when you wouldn’t ask for help when-” they sigh, “-when I should know that would be hard for you.”

It hammers home what Snatcher has finally figured out--that they have been wanting him to reach out to them and waiting for it. When he called them that first time, some barrier had broken, and apparently not just on his end. “I know, I-” he starts, but stops again when he can’t find the rest of the thought. He shrugs helplessly. “I’m not good at the feelings talk like you. I feel bad. That’s all I got.”

Moonjumper’s lip quirks up, but they’re still pensive. “That’s not useless either.”

“It’s not exactly helpful.”

“It’s a start. We wouldn’t be talking like this even a few weeks ago, would we?”

“Mm. Guess not.”

The timer screams its way into the conversation, and Snatcher knocks over his chair as he jumps to silence it. He remembers not to leave the dish directly on the counter without a hot pad and plates a serving of the lasagna.

“You know, if you’re having trouble with feeling...productive,” Moonjumper says once he finishes his meal preparations, “maybe it would help keep you busy if you focused on taking care of things around the ship. You did mention the little ones aren’t very, er, organized about self-care.”

“Hah, I already do a bunch of their cleaning,” Snatcher says through a searing mouthful. He remembered the hot pads for the counter but forgot that he can still burn the hell out of his own tongue. “They’re so distracted…”

Moonjumper perks up. “I didn’t know about that.” They squint at him. “I wonder if maybe you’re not giving enough credit to the things you are able to do.”

“What d’you mean?”

They lean forward with a wry expression. “I  _ mean _ , have you considered that you might already be making a positive impact on  _ their _ lives? That’s the opposite of useless.”

Snatcher stops chewing. “Hrm.” Surely picking up after their chaos and making them bathe regularly isn’t particularly noteworthy. But if Moonjumper is right...He swallows carefully. That’s dangerous territory.

“Food for thought.”

“Don’t pun at me.”

Moonjumper snickers, waving him off. “By the way, how’d the lasagna turn out?”

Snatcher shovels another bite into his mouth, hiding behind a disgruntled glare. “Fuckin delicious.”


End file.
